Pride, Prejudice, and Cowboys
by Sakate
Summary: The cast of Star Trek: Enterprise in the Pride and Prejudice era. Malcolm Reed thought he had enough to deal with, but then a group of Americans comes barrelling into his life. The project he will be forced to participate in and the introduction of a charming southern cowboy will stretch the limits of his abilities and may bring his whole world to ruin. Reed/Trip shipping.
1. Chapter 1: New Arrivals

**Star Trek: Enterprise meets Pride and Prejudice**

Author's note:

Don't own any part of the star trek franchise (although that'd be amazing...meeting the actors from the last two movies? *drools*), yada yada yada no rights to any fictional characters yada yada...this is my first fanfic I've attempted to publish, so please don't destroy my poor little writer wannabe heart. I also have quite a busy schedule, so for those who actually read this and are interested in it continuing, it'll probably be a bi-monthly posting depending on how my life goes.

This story is all mine, which means I've decided to play on the Pride and Prejudice genre, mixing a little bit of real history with a lot of my own manipulations and fantasy. Pride and Prejudice was written in 1813(?), and I'm going to try and keep it to about that time (early 1800s) with the actions and goals of the characters. HOWEVER. Historical facts/wars will be purposefully smudgy (aka wrong) and technological advancements may also be slightly off, but it's MY story so who cares?

I'm a big Reed/Trip shipper, so that's where this is going. Some characters will have slightly altered names to fit the times. I'll post their prospective names as they're introduced, with a brief description at the bottom of the chapter. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

Well...think that's all for now! Enjoy, review responsibly, and constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

Chapter 1: New Arrivals

The carriage rolled along the countryside, bumping occasionally as it followed the well-worn rivets in the dirt road.

"Seriously, cap, how much longer is this gonna to take?"

A young man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes leaned his head against the window ledge, a grimace on his face as he stared at the countryside he and his companion were travelling through, His companion laughed at his pout, reaching into his pocket to check his watch. "You asked me that not five minutes ago, Trip. We'll get there when we get there. You'd think after a month stuck on a boat the foreign scenery would be enough to keep you occupied for more than a few hours."

Trip pouted, leaning forward as he responded with his southern drawl. "This ain't foreign...they're fields, for God's sake. We have plenty of those back home! At this rate, we may as well have just stayed in port – at least there were plenty of places to put my boots up, instead of being cramped in this dinky carriage...are all English men short, or is this thing a little on the small side?"

Captain Jonathan Archer sighed. Charles Tucker the Third was a brilliant man, but part of that brilliance meant that he had the tendency to get bored rather quickly. His father had been good friends with him in the US Navy – an inventor and a pioneer in engineering, and his son had inherited his gifts as well as his temperament. He himself was feeling a bit cramped, the carriage hired to take them out to their final destination designed to be light and fast, meant for speed, not comfort.

"Just keep your trousers on, Trip, and remember to mind your manners, will you? We need this endeavour to go smoothly, and that's not going to happen if you keep insulting every British lord or land holder you meet."

Trip frowned, but nodded. Even he understood the necessity for caution. After all, tensions between Britain and her unruly former colony were not as high as they had been in the decades after the revolution, but nor had they welcomed the idea of trade or sharing resources. Now as relations with neighbouring France had deteriorated rapidly for both Britain and the United States of America, more trade and collaborative partnerships were being formed under the careful eye of both governments.

"Do you think this puffed up prince will keep his word on sharing the results of the project with us? Coming over to them...they could pull out at any time, and we'd be left high and dry."

Archer also frowned, then sighed, looking out at the passing landscape.

"We can't know for sure. This mission was approved by the Navy, but even I have my doubts as to how willing the British government will be to share their new toys if this project really does succeed. Despite you not being enlisted, you'll act as my second in command – I expect them to treat you with the rank of commander during our stay. We'll both need to keep on our guard, but it's a year long project, after all...plenty of time to get to know them. It's my hope that things will go smoothly."

"You mean as smoothly as a cat gets along with a dog."

Archer laughed. "Something like that."

The carriage lurched abruptly, shoving the two men against the walls of the interior and nearly launching Trip out of the window he had previously been leaning against.

"Um, cap...what was that?"

- at the Reed estate -

Gravel crunched under well tailored leather slippers as a girl hurried down the side path from the estate's courtyard to the workspace built into the side of a large stable.

"Brother! Brother, you'll never guess what I saw while mama, Madame Price and I were coming back from Westershire today."

She entered the workshop, ducking under rope and metal. Despite her efforts, the bottom of her skirt snagged against a stray bar poking out close to the ground, tearing the material in her haste to rush through the clutter.

"Oh for the love of...Brother, are you even paying attention?" She shook out her skirt, freeing it and examining the damage as she moved to the back of the large room with more caution. "Madame Price and mama will be so furious..."

"Well it is the second dress you've managed to ruin in a fortnight."

She huffed as her brother came into view, hidden in the back corner surrounded by half-finished projects and strange structures. He was not a tall man, and seated appeared even less so. His slender frame hid a well-toned, athletic body which at the moment was covered by practical work clothes, smudged and dirty with soot and oil. Intense grey eyes stared intently down at the gun he was working on, parts strewn across the work table.

"Of course you only pay attention to what you want to hear. And it's your fault this time, for I wouldn't have torn the skirt had you kept this place in better repair."

The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly as he took a small metal piece from the table, carefully inserting it before answering. "You've been warned by Madame Price to pick up your skirts when you walk. It is hardly my fault that you did not heed her advice. It is also worth noting that this is a work place not suitable for young ladies of the ton. What has caught your interest now, dear Madeline, that you would rush into my private workroom in such a state?"

"See! You were not paying attention, Malcolm, for you would have heard what I said when I first entered this infernal space."

Malcolm Reed sighed as he finished his task, clicking the gun's lock back. Madeline didn't even flinch as turned to look at her, lifting his arm to point the finished pistol away from them towards a wooden target across the room and fired without taking his eyes off his sister.

"It is not another puffed up gentleman arrived from the ton looking at the empty Willhelm estate, is it? They'll never lease the place at this rate."

She stuck her tongue out at him in a childish manner, flouncing off with girlish energy as she went to examine the board.

"The new barrel piece you added is still adding too much force upon firing – it looks like the shot is still listing to the left."

Malcolm frowned, trying to peer at the board across the room.

"By what margin?"

"Oh, only by the space between your ears, dear brother."

Now it was Malcolm's turn to huff, this time a true smile lighting a handsome face.

"You, dear sister, are pulling my leg quite prodigiously. Appearances are indeed deceiving, for it is hard to believe an imp like yourself has managed to enchant everyone that dare cross your path." He stood up, setting the pistol down on the work table and brushing off his trousers. "Come, we'll take the garden route back to hide the state of your dress from madame and mama, and you can tell me of your important sighting in Westernshire."

They exited the room, Madeline accepting her brother's offered arm as she began to describe the day's events.

"Me, mama and Madame Price -"

"Mama, Madame Price and **I**." Malcolm interrupted.

"Yes yes, mama, Madame Price and I had just finished our business in the new tailor's shop in Westernshire when a broken carriage passed by. It would normally have not caught our attention, had I not seen the rather strange hat one of the men carried with them. Mama told me it was a hat often worn by American cattle herders! Can you imagine, Americans in the town of Westernshire! And indeed, as they passed us by there was no mistaking their strange accents."

Malcolm nodded thoughtfully. "I believe the cattle herders of the southern region are known to wear strange brimmed hats designed to keep precipitation away from the head. They are called "cowboys", a rather crude argot for their cattle farmers in my opinion."

"I find it rather fascinating! One of them was quite dashing. If mama had not protested, I would have made my acquaintance." she said wistfully. "They had a cart behind them with supplies, which makes me hope that they are intending to stay for some period of time. Dear Lina Park was with us at the time, and she told us that she'd overheard that they were to stay with General Hayes, just down the way. I wonder what brings them to Westernshire? Maybe they'll be present at Lady Blalock's ball tomorrow's eve!"

Malcolm glared at the mention of the general. He was a proud, shrewd man, not entirely unlike-able save for the fact that his only son, Joss Hayes, had risen to the rank of Major in the British Army with a speed only possible when one had the connections to smooth their way. Major Hayes was a gifted officer despite his quick ascent up the ranks, and he and Malcolm (both of a similar age) would have gotten along had their rather stubborn temperaments not been so similar, and opinions on military tactics so different. Malcolm held the rank of lieutenant in the Royal Navy, although he had been called back from his active duties when he showed a gift for weaponry by...

"Malcolm. Your father wishes to speak with you in his private study."

As they had approached the main house, a servant had walked out to meet them. At the servant's words, Madeline looked to her brother worriedly. "Malcolm..."

But his face had lost its relaxed appearance, and his eyes had turned into a glacial, stony grey. "It is time for you to prepare for supper, Madeline. Try not to give madame or mama too much grief, and I will see you then or after if I am not otherwise detained."

She gave his arm a quick squeeze, not reassured in the slightest. "You are still planning to attend the ball tomorrow night, yes? I will need someone to fend off all my young and foolhardy suitors."

Malcolm's eyes softened, knowing his sister was trying her hardest to distract him from his fouled mood. "You know I will, dear imp. Now go tend to your dress."

He followed the servant, striding quickly through the house to his father's private study knowing it would not serve him well if he dallied. Not that it would matter at this point, he thought, for a command to attend to his father's study never boded well.

-end chapter 1-

Malcolm Reed: gentleman from England

Madeline Reed: Malcolm's younger sister

Charles "Trip" Tucker – (aka Charles Tucker the third): brash new money inventor from America

Jonathan Archer: old family friend of the Tuckers, old American lineage/money

Major Joss Hayes: rival to Malcolm, of the British Army


	2. Chapter 2: Family Matters

Author's Note:

hello everyone! I was very grateful to have received reviews and commentary on this little story, especially the aid from history buff Belen09 on various time period know-hows. I'll be making a couple of changes to the first chapter based off of this, although that will be on the back burner to getting the third chapter out in a reasonable amount of time (and the second chapter of another story I'm writing). Two weeks between chapters may be stretching it a bit for my writing skills, but I will do my best if enough interest shows.

Otherwise, I'll just be updating as I can. I will promise I won't stop the story until it's done, which may take a while but will hopefully be worth it! It's a bucket list item of mine to write a complete fanfiction series.

so off we go with chapter 2! Insights into the mysterious father-son relationship, and an even more mysterious envelope! Plus some background history. Hopefully not too much...I struggled to figure out how much was needed, and I may be digging myself into a hole with the descriptions, so just remember. ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. Which means everything is FAKE, and totally up to my discretion. Don't worry your little minds over the details, just accept them for what they are. I do general background research but I do not assume myself to be an expert and love to tweak things to fit my own fantasies. 

**Chapter 2: Family Matters**

Malcolm entered the room to find the retired Admiral Stuart Reed standing in front of the large fireplace in his private study, hands clasped behind his back as he stared into the roaring flames. The Reed family had been military men for generations. Stuart had been the son of a knighted lord who had served his king and country with distinction, and he himself had served as a distinguished admiral in the Royal Navy until the end of the last major war. He ran his estate as one would command a ship, and his expectation of his son and daughter was that his orders were to be followed without question. Stuart Reed had been at a loss with what to do with his eldest child. He had missed both the birth of his son and much of his early childhood away at sea, common amongst those in the Navy and Army. When he returned, he had been furious to find his son's intense fear of the water and lack of interest in following his father's footsteps.

After two years and his mother's pleading insistence to spare her son from his father's continued wrath, a compromise had been made. He was pulled from boarding school and was instead sent to the Navy as a midshipman, to be watched under the careful eye of a captain who was a good friend of the family, and would also act as a personal tutor in non-military subjects and etiquette. His natural talents in tactics and weaponry served him well despite his fears of the water.

His brilliant tactical mind had led the captain to insist upon his return to Britain and continue his education to serve the British Armed Forces in a different manner than the one his father had desired. His talent for both using and creating novel modifications to weaponry would finally give him his freedom from the seas, much to his father's frustration.

Malcolm had spent several years thereafter engaged with the best and brightest of the British Armed Forces, learning from resident researchers and weapon experts, and had been moved from active seaman duty to general service. He had held the rank of lieutenant in the British Navy and after being transferred was appointed as a lieutenant commander, but Stuart Reed had never accepted his son for what he viewed as a cowardly attempt to avoid active service. Malcolm was his only son, however, and despite the elder Reed's disapproval, to disown Malcolm would be the end of the Reed line, something he refused to do. So Malcolm remained his heir despite his father's disapproval, working with money from the crown on various projects but remaining in the main household to continue his education in the various estate matters he would eventual oversee himself.

The retired admiral turns from the fire to frown at his son. "Such a state of attire is unacceptable in this household. Do I need to remind you of such things as if you were still a child?"

"No sir. I apologize for my appearance, I was-"

"Working like a common labourer" his father interrupted, "tinkering around in that frivolous shop of yours. Wasting your life and resources to a sham of a position in the forces...if it was up to me, it would not be borne. One day you will take over this household, and I will be damned if you should be the weak link to let it fall."

Malcolm gritted his teeth, trying not to let his father's words get the better of him.

"I have yet to neglect any of my duties to this family or its affairs, sir. You requested my presence, and here I stand."

**Slap.**

Malcolm's face stung at the fast blow his father delivered.

"Do not give me lip, boy. For that is what you are, unmarried, beholden to this family for all the trouble and disappointment you have given us."

At this, Malcolm looks down, directing his furious glare at the poor carpet beneath their feet. "You requested my presence, sir?"

Stuart Reed humphed to himself, accepting the small victory, turning to the desk and picking up a thickly padded envelope and handing it to Malcolm.

"While you were busy fooling about in the barn a missive arrived from that young upstart Hayes at the request of his father. You are to report to General Hayes by order of the crown in two weeks time."

As he hands the letter to Malcolm he grips it tightly for a moment, causing Malcolm to look up.

"Do not assume this gives you leave to run off and neglect your duties, boy. Your unnatural interests in commoners tasks will leave this family in ruin. Your mother is already beside herself at your inability to acquire a wife of good standing, and I am beginning to agree."

Malcolm doesn't fall for the second attempt to get a rise out of him, instead tugging the envelope away from his father's hand and standing back at attention.

"If that is all, sir?"

"Dismissed. I expect you to make yourself presentable for supper."

Malcolm nods to his father, turning and quickly strides from the room.

###################################################################

Returning to his quarters, Malcolm removes his soiled clothing as a servant enters the room with a basin of water for his face. Washing quickly, he finishes dressing and picks up the letter. His last assignment had been over a fortnight ago, with reassurances that his next assignment would be of the utmost importance and without the brevity of his last few orders. This letter was bound with a seal he did not recognize, along with the familiar crest of the royal armed forces.

A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts, as the servant returned to alert him it was time for supper. He sighed. The letter would have to wait.

The dining hall was quiet as their meal was served, Madeline more subdued after a stern scolding over the state of her dress. Nonetheless, she smiled across the table at Malcolm, pleased to see that the latest confrontation between him and their father had not ended in blows or Malcolm shutting himself away to escape the harsh words of their father.

"Malcolm. Did you not hear what I said?"

He looked towards his mother, distracted from his thoughts of the letter resting on his desk. She smiled, her gaze soft as she continued.

"Your sister has told me of the upcoming ball, but with my health being as it is, I was hoping that you would escort Madeline and Madame Price to the Blalock's ball tomorrow night. She has been quite insistent, and I fear for my sanity should she be denied."

Madeline grinned, and looked at her brother with big puppy eyes, a hopeful expression on her face.

Malcolm nodded in acquiescence. "You may stop giving my those doe eyes, my dear sister. I fear for my own health and sanity should I dare dissent."

"Oh, thank you brother, it will be a lovely gathering!" Madeline exclaimed. "I am much anticipating the appearance of the Americans, for they must have such stories to tell of their travels."

His father frowned at this, finally paying attention to the conversation. "Americans? In Westernshire?"

At Madeline's explanation of her sighting earlier in the day, the elder Reed looked between Madeline and Malcolm. "Neither of you are to associate yourselves with such characters. Whatever they are here for, let them carry out their business and be on their way. If they find themselves welcome, who knows how long they would stay? It would be a disgrace to the town, and I will not encourage it. The Blalocks must be out of their minds, to have agreed to host them."

"But father-" Madeline protested.

"That is an order. Understood?"

She looked down, pouting. "Yes, father."

Malcolm had little interest in the foreigners, and nodded, not expecting to interact with them even should they be present at the Blalock's gathering the next evening. All he could think about was that letter. Little did he know the letter waiting for him in his quarters would have more to do with the visitors than he could have ever imagined.


End file.
